


The Legend of Sahtara & Otsa

by Blondhes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Dreams, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Human McCall Pack, Human Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Legends, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Nightmares, OMC Brett is not Brett Talbot, Prophecies, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Nemeton - Freeform, True Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blondhes/pseuds/Blondhes
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is not a stranger to weird. His dad is the sheriff who can't help but over share his cases, his college roommate is an art major but a football jock at heart, and he indulges in nightly Wikipedia searches. And man, are there a lot of weird things on Wikipedia. But when a boy is killed by an animal attack one night, followed by frequent nightmares he would rather forget, Stiles can't help but feel a bit wary. It only gets worse when he arrives back to his dorm after a morning class to find a thirty-something (not to mention good looking) year old man perched on the edge of his bed. His life only gets stranger when the man claims they are "mates" and Stiles is a "spark" (whatever that is). Safe to say, Stiles deserves those two extra hours of sleep he was robbed of this morning.





	1. Home, Sweet Home!

**Author's Note:**

> After attempting to find a perfect name for Stiles' roommate (I went through 3 different names!), I finally decided on Brett. But only after writing the first chapter did I realize there is already a Brett in Teen Wolf. This Brett in The Legend of Sahtara & Otsa is not Brett Talbot lol. 
> 
> I'm not really sure what this is but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Also, updating is very irregular so sorry about that. I am updating this for myself so I will not have a schedule. Sorry!

Stiles Stilinski wakes up to an itch on his forehead and the edge of a sticky-note blocking part of his vision. He scrunches his nose and tiredly rips the note from his forehead. He squints at the sloppy handwriting that he recognizes as his roommate’s.

                Your dad called. Asked me to remind you that you guys are having dinner. Happy birthday man.

-Brett

                Stiles sits up on the edge of his bed and checks the time on his clock that sits on his bedside table. 12:03pm. He rolls his shoulders and debates whether he should take a shower or not but one whiff of himself and the decision is made. He shreds his clothing on his way to the bathroom. He steps under the spray of hot water and relishes in the warmth. It strikes a bit odd to Stiles that Brett would answer his phone call since they have only known each other for a couple of weeks. Stiles quickly dismisses the feeling though once he realizes that he would probably do the same thing if a ringing phone woke him up and the owner wouldn’t shut it off.

                After he gets dressed, Stiles starts to pack a bag to take to his dad’s house. It’s a forty-five minute drive to his childhood home from Beacon Hills Community College but he decides to stay with his dad tonight since it’s been a while since the last time he saw him. Fortunately his professor canceled his afternoon class and tomorrow is Saturday so he doesn’t need to feel rushed to come back to campus. Stiles trips over a canvas on his way back to the bathroom. He never thought there could be a messier person than him until he met Brett. Rooming with an art major has made it difficult to walk in their dorm, but Brett’s artwork brings a whole other light to the room.

                Stiles swings his duffle bag over his shoulder and clutches his pillow to his chest. He double checks he has everything and glances at the time. It’s 1:30pm right now so he should arrive at his dad’s around two. He opens the door and turns around to lock it. Just as his key fits into the lock, he hears a shout from down the hallway.

                “Hey! Hold it open, Stiles!” Brett yells as he stumbles towards Stiles with an armful of paint and brushes. Stiles smiles and pushes the door open. Brett steps inside and dumps all of his supplies on his unmade bed. He turns to face Stiles and pats him on the shoulder.

                “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

                “Probably. I might come back on Sunday; it all depends on how many of my friends are back home.” Scott will definitely be home. His best friend decided to stay in Beacon Hills after high school to study at a nearby college to earn his degree in veterinary medicine. Stiles’ other friends scattered around the country to do their own thing. Stiles, Scott, Liam, and Kira are the only ones who stayed in California. Liam hasn’t graduated high school yet but he plans on staying close to home.

                “Well whenever you get back we are celebrating your birthday.” Brett says.

                “Sounds good to me.” Stiles salutes Brett then turns around and makes his way to his car.

                The drive to his dad’s is long and boring. Stiles always hated driving long distances; there was nothing to do and the tight space made him restless. He filled the silence by blasting the radio and stuffing his mouth with stale crackers and sticky Twizzlers. Stiles lets out a sigh of relief as he turns onto his street. The last time he was over was during the summer before college. It’s only been a month but there were already Halloween decorations on his neighbors’ yards. Stiles pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine of Roscoe, his blue jeep. As he hikes his bag onto his shoulder he hears the front door slam shut.

                “Stiles!” Yells his dad. Stiles grabs the last of his things and shifts to see his dad. His dad holds his arms out and wraps them around Stiles’ shoulders when he reaches him. Stiles tries his best to hug him back without dropping his belongings. He breathes in deep and is welcomed with the familiar gun smoke and laundry detergent scent of his father. His dad finally lets go and helps him bring in his things into the house. His old room looks the same with the exception of some of his things back at campus. His desk is still on the opposite side of the room of his bed. His printer sits on the black desk but his laptop that used to sit there as well is safely tucked away in his duffle bag. His bed is made and he looks at his father curiously.

                “I came up here one morning when I missed you and I just had to make that stupid bed.”

                Stiles rests his hand on his dad’s shoulder and smiles lopsidedly. “Oh Dadio, if I knew it only took me leaving for a couple days for you to clean my room, I would have left the house more often.”

                His dad rolls his eyes and sets Stiles’ pillow on his bed. “I’ll let you unpack. We’re going to Scott’s house for a birthday dinner, we all know I’ll burn whatever I try to make. I thought I’d save everyone from food poisoning this time.”

                John, Stiles’ dad, steps out of his son’s bedroom, closing the door on his way out. Stiles unpacks his bag, stuffing clothes in drawers and dumping all of his toiletries under the bathroom sink. He checks his phone which is charging on his bed. He has a few text messages from his friends telling him happy birthday. He sends a thank you to all of them and heads down stairs to check up on his dad.

                Stiles finds his father in the dining room with case files scattered around the table. The image takes Stiles back to high school, when he would arrive home and no one would be home but when he would wake to get a drink of water, he would find his father passed out with files covering every inch of the table and an empty bottle of bourbon on the floor.

                It makes Stiles feel a little better that there is no liquor near his father. John looks up at Stiles when he comes prancing down the stairs.

                “C’mon Dad, no working on my nineteenth birthday.”

                “Alright.” John shuts the folder. “You ready to go?”

                “Yep.” Stiles fishes his keys from his pocket and dangles them in the air. “We’re taking the jeep. I’m sure the McCall’s have missed her.”    

                When they arrive, Stiles is embraced in a long overdue hug from his best friend and his mom. Melissa, Scott’s mom, ushers the boys into the dining room where dinner is waiting. The salty smell of the pot roast makes Stiles’ mouth water and he looks longingly at the juicy steak.

                “It’s been too long since I have had a home cooked meal.” Stiles says after he sits down and waits his turn to serve himself. He looks at his father, waiting for him to agree.

                “I can’t say the same thing son,” John says as he scoops some potatoes onto his plate. “I’ve been coming over here every Friday night for dinner.”

                Stiles’ heart warms at the news. Before he left for college he had been trying to make his father eat healthier but try as he might, his efforts just weren’t sticking. It felt good to know someone was looking after him while he was away.

                “Stiles,” Melissa starts. “How’s life at college? Are you and your roommate getting along?”

                “Brett and I work pretty well together. I thought it was going to be really weird to have to share a room with someone, but I got used to it quickly. Brett is a pretty cool guy but it would be so much more fun if I was bunking with this guy.” Stiles bumps his shoulder with Scott’s. Scott grins crookedly and slathers his roast in juice.

                The rest of dinner is filled with small talk and laughter. Scott tells him a story about a dog that swallowed seven marbles and how worried the owner was. Scott also updates him on his other friends that he hasn’t talked to in a while. Isaac is still in France and plans to stay there for another year as a gap year. Malia is in Paris at the moment and Stiles secretly hopes she runs into Isaac while she is there. Lydia has been busy at MIT so she hasn’t contacted anyone much, but as far as Scott can tell, she’s doing better than she ever has. Nothing major has happened to Kira and Liam which Stiles is thankful for, it makes him feel better to know he isn’t the only one who lives an uneventful life.

                After dinner, they all gather in the living room and gifts are shoved onto Stiles’ lap.

                “You guys didn’t have to get me anything.” Stiles tells them as he eyes the gifts in his lap, trying to predict what could be inside.

                “Oh shut up,” Scott says. “We all know you’re itching to open them.” 

                Stiles grins and rips open the wrapping paper. Inside a shoe box are Star Wars sheets and a $25 gift card to Starbucks.

                “I thought you might want something to decorate your room with.” Melissa explains.

                “I know you drink coffee like it’s a religion and you’re practically broke so… happy birthday!” Scott shrugs. Stiles huffs out a laugh and gets up to give them each a hug.

                “Thank you.” Stiles says warmly and reaches for the last gift. He lifts the bag onto his lap and lets the tissue paper fall onto the floor. Inside, Stiles can see the edge of a flat silver surface and he immediately knows what it is. “You didn’t!” Stiles exclaims as he pulls out a brand new MacBook. John smiles fondly at his son as Stiles runs his fingertips over the device.

                “You can leave your old computer here. I figured now that you’re in college it’s time for a new one.”

                Stiles carefully sets the computer on the couch and jumps up to hug his father. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” His old computer had started showing signs of failure a few months ago but he didn’t have enough money to buy a new one. Now he can save up for new seats for the jeep instead of a new laptop.

                Soon after opening gifts, Stiles and his dad call it a night. Scott promises to visit tomorrow and they go their separate ways. Getting distracted is not a new thing for Stiles, but seeing his dad shaking his knee all the way home is. His dad keeps sending him worried glances throughout the drive which throws Stiles. His father is one of the most composed persons he knows; it is strange to see him so nervous. Why is he so nervous? 

                “Are you okay, Dad?” Stiles asks as he pulls onto their street. He has always been worried about his father, even as a young child. His mother’s death only heightened that protectiveness. His father is all he has and he will be damned if he doesn’t do everything in his power to keep him in the small circle he calls family.

                “What?” His dad startles. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long week at the station.”

                Stiles turns off the engine and faces his dad. “Me being gone is not an excuse for you to overwork yourself.”

                His father sighs and climbs out of the jeep. He unlocks the front door before he answers. “I’m not overworking myself.” He grumbles. “You’re gone so I don’t have anyone to occupy my time anymore. I figured that picking up a few extra cases would be good for me. Plus, it is kind of my job, being the Sheriff and all.”

                Stiles follows his dad into the kitchen, dropping his keys into a wooden bowl. “Sorry Dad, you know I worry about you.”

                John sighs. “Yes I know. I worry about you too which is why you should go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

                Stiles nods and pats his dad on his shoulder. He smiles at the crows feet at the edge of his father’s eyes and the barely-there wrinkles on his forehead from stress caused by previous cases. He brings his father into a hug and heads up the stairs to his room. After he changes into his pajamas, he climbs into bed and pulls his comforter up to his chin. Stiles basks in the warmth of his bed. All day he’s been craving his bed. Now that he can finally sleep it couldn’t come fast enough.

 

                _There is a sharp, sterile smell that burns his nostrils. He’s sitting in a plastic, white chair in a hospital room. He lays his forehead on the edge of the hospital bed and squeezes the hand that is clutched to his. He can hear the faint beep of the heart monitor and the jagged breathing of his sleeping mother on the bed. He sits up when he hears footsteps approaching the door but relaxes back into his seat when the footsteps continue beyond the hospital room. He looks over at his mother and takes in the dark circles under her eyes, her pale lips, and her sweaty forehead. He reaches for a washcloth by her bed and starts to dab at the sweat on her brow. As he brings the rag to her left temple, his mother stirs from her sleep. He smiles down at her and opens his mouth to soothe her but he never gets the chance. As soon as his mother lays her eyes on him she lets out a horrific scream that makes his stomach drop and fills him with fear. He quickly surveys the room, scooting closer to his mother as he tries to identify the danger. When his eyes scan the room twice and still can’t find anyone else in the room, he turns to his mother in confusion. His mother keeps scrambling to the head of her bed and infrequently letting out terrified shouts. He furrows his eyebrows, desperately trying to learn what is scaring his mother before the nurses are notified, when he realizes his mother is looking directly at him. He reaches out to comfort his mother but she swats his hand away, screaming, “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”_

_His heart breaks, knowing this is just another one of her episodes, and he stares at her through blurry vision caused by the tears that stream down his chubby cheeks. Nurses rush in, pushing him aside as they check monitors and force his mom to lay down. Despite the commotion, he still hears his mother loud and clear as she screams at the nurses._

_“Please help me! That is not my son! He’s trying to kill me!”_

Stiles wakes screaming and scrambles away from the edge of his bed. His breaths are fast and heavy. He can still hear his mother’s screams, accusing him of wanting to harm her. He can still remember the ache of knowing his own mother, the one person who is supposed to know him best and never leave him, _forgetting him._ He clamps his hands over his ears, trying to block out his mother’s wails but it only makes it worse. He screams until he can’t hear the shrieks of desperation and fear anymore and that is when he notices two strong arms are wrapped around him, gripping his shoulders tightly.  

Slowly, Stiles starts to come to his senses. He’s not standing in a hospital room; he is lying in his bed. He’s not watching his mother writhe under the doctors’ grips; he’s in the arms of his father. There is no yelling, only his father whispering to him. Stiles’ breaths start to steady and he relaxes into his father’s embrace.

“You’re okay, Stiles. It was just a dream. I’m here.” His dad repeats.

*

It takes quite a lot of convincing for his dad to let Stiles drive back home the following evening. Stiles was pretty shaken up from his nightmare and he didn’t want his dad hovering him for the next couple days because of it.

Stiles had spent Saturday afternoon with Scott but he never brought up his dream. Instead, they watched movies and played video games. Laughing with Scott managed to make Stiles forget about the dream and soon enough he was on the road once again, heading home.

When Stiles arrives back to his dorm Brett is perched on the end of his bed with a pair of ear buds plugged into his ears. He looks up from his sketch book when he notices Stiles then goes back to blending charcoal. Stiles has learned not to bother Brett when he is working hard on his artwork. The boy gets grouchy when interrupted and Stiles doesn’t have the energy to hold up a conversation. Stiles climbs under his covers and promises himself that he will unpack in the morning. He falls asleep, praying that he won’t have another dream about his mother.

When Stiles climbs out of bed the next morning and hauls himself to the cafeteria for breakfast, he is relieved he was granted a good night sleep. He really couldn’t handle another dream about his mom, especially if he reacted the same way he did with his dad. He did not want to live with the embarrassment of Brett experiencing the repercussion one of his nightmares.

Stiles shuffles down the short line-seeing as it is a Saturday morning- of drowsy students and selects a bowl of Cap’n Crunch cereal and a container of orange juice. Brett never eats breakfast so Stiles opts to sit at the end of a long brown table towards the far back corner of the cafeteria. A few students slide into the bench seats at Stiles’ table far enough that he doesn’t feel compelled to talk to them but close enough that he can hear a few clips of their conversation.

As Stiles digs around his bowl for a green colored berry, his head perks up at the bizarre course his fellow students’ conversation is taking.

“Did you guys hear about the attack last night?”

“Yeah, man. Apparently there were deep slashes-”

“Claw marks!”

“Yeah, claw marks in the victim.”

“The authorities are saying it was an animal attack. Maybe some sort of cougar.”

“Cougar? Please. What kind of animal kills for sport? It didn’t feed on it or anything.”

“I don’t know, dude, but it left teeth marks.” A brunet boy leans into his group of friends and lowers his voice. “On their neck.”

The group of students erupt in gasps and _awesome_ ’s, then dive into unsettling topics Stiles would rather not hear about. Stiles quickly loses his appetite and throws away his breakfast before heading back to his dorm.

Someone was killed last night? Was it someone he knew? God, Stiles hopes not.

Stiles wonders if his dad knew about the attack and if he did, was he going to tell him?

The prospect of a wild animal roaming the city confused Stiles because there hasn’t been a spotting of an animal the size of a mountain lion in the city in years. Maybe the victim was deep in the woods. There is a forest on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

Before Stiles can put much thought to the incident, he is distracted by the shouts coming from his dorm room. Stiles jogs down the hall, passing a few fellow students and nodding his head in their direction.

“No, no. Not there. You’re covering my painting.” Stiles can hear Brett mutter. Inside his room, Brett is standing in the middle of chaos. There are four other football players scattered throughout the room. One is pinning streamers to the ceiling, another is blowing up balloons next to a pin the tail on the Pikachu, and the other two are standing on each of Stiles and Brett’s beds, adjusting a banner that reads:

**Happy Late Birthday Stiles!**

Brett is standing in front of the doorway directing the boys on the banner with his back facing Stiles. On the wall, below the banner, is a painting of Stiles. Well, sort of. It’s a portrait of Stiles in a batman outfit. Stiles’ heart warms at the sight.

“You guys did this all for me?”

Brett’s head whips around and panic bleeds onto his face. “Stiles! What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I live here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here. You usually eat breakfast for a lot longer.” Brett pushes Stiles out of the dorm room, shutting the door behind him in an attempt to block Stiles’ view of the decorations. His movements aren’t fast enough and Stiles manages to get another glimpse at the painting before it’s forced from his view.

“Yeah, well, change of plans.” Stiles scuffs the toe of his shoe on the puke green carpet. “So a surprise birthday party?”

Brett huffs. “Well it was supposed to be. Penelope is on her way with the food.”

Stiles met Penelope in English this year. She sat herself next to him and offered him a bag of chips. They’ve been friends ever since.

“I already saw most of the decorations,” Stiles starts. “Can I just go inside? I mean it is my party.”

“No. No way, man. We are waiting until Penny shows up.” Brett orders. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, daring Stiles to argue.

If there is one thing Stiles has learned about Brett, it is he is very stubborn. Stiles himself can put up a pretty good fight but he decides to just let it go. Pick your battles and all that. He leans against the wall opposite of their room and slides down. He crosses his ankles and tries to get comfortable. Brett keeps his stance by the door, guarding it, making sure Stiles won’t sneak in. Not that he would try.

That is how Penelope finds the two boys. She approaches them, trying to juggle the three paper grocery bags in her arms. Her brown curly hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looks expectantly at Brett and he moves to the side, letting her pass.

Stiles stands and starts to make his way to their door but gets stopped by Brett.

The raven haired boy puts a hand to Stiles’ chest and shakes his head. “Hold on there cowboy. You are not entering. Not yet.”

Stiles lets out an exasperated sigh. “But why? You said he have to wait for Penelope. We did. I don’t understand what the big deal is. I’ve already seen everything. Just let me in. I’m cold and I’m hungry. That is not a good combination.”

Brett and Stiles stare at each other for a minute, waiting for the other to give.

Brett’s broad shoulder’s deflate, prompting Stiles to grin in victory. Brett turns the handle and holds the door open for Stiles. Once inside, Stiles spots Penelope unpacking bags of chips and multiple containers of cookies onto his desk. She notices him and smiles then waves him over to join her.

“Pretty awesome, right? When Brett told me we were throwing you a surprise birthday party I didn’t know he was capable of keeping it a surprise.”

“He didn’t.” Stiles goes on to explain when Penelope shoots him a confused look. “I walked in as they were setting it up.”

“Oh my god.” Penelope rolls her eyes. “I knew it. I should have planned the thing myself. I offered to but Brett was insistent that-” Penelope stops short when Brett rushes over.

“What the hell, Penny? Where’s the veggies?”

“The what?”

“The vegetables. I asked for vegetables and fruit. Not whatever this garbage is.”

“I’m sorry but this _garbage_ came out of my wallet. Plus, we’re throwing a party here! Not a PTA meeting.”

Brett rolls his eyes and mutters, “Whatever.” Brett has always been a health nut. In the short period Stiles has known him, he has scolded Stiles on his unhealthy eating habits and has tried three different juice cleanses. It disgusts Stiles.

The football player that was blowing up balloons strolls over to the three of them and lays his hand on Brett’s shoulder.

“We’re all done.”

“Awesome.” Brett responds while pulling out a twenty dollar bill. He hands it to the other boy. “Thanks Xander. If you guys want you can stay.”

Xander waves his hand. “Nah, man. We got other plans. Thanks though.” Xander turns to Stiles and sends him a friendly smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

Xander rounds up the other boys and they leave with hollers of _happy birthday'_ s. Stiles and Penny direct their attention back to Brett.

“Did you hire your teammates to help you set up decorations?” Stiles asks bewildered.

“Maybe.” Brett admits, scratching the back of his neck.

Penelope gawks. “You _hired_ people to help you. People who aren’t even friends with Stiles.”

“Hey!” Stiles shouts in indignation. He knows he doesn’t have that many friends but he doesn’t need it pointed out to him.

“When his own friend was denied the privilege of helping!” Penelope exasperates.

“Some things just aren’t cut out for women.”

Stiles steps away from his bickering friends to get a better look at the framed artwork of Stiles. Stiles remembers telling Brett of when his friend Erica referred to him as her Batman. He’s surprised Brett was listening since he was in the middle of writing an essay, let alone deciding to draw him as Batman. The chalky texture of the drawing is a clear sign of charcoal and Stiles realizes this is what Brett was working on when he got home last night. In the bottom right corner of the paper is scrawled:

Happy birthday Batman. –Brett

Stiles smiles and returns his attention to his friends who were still arguing.

“Hey guys, where are my presents?” That seemed to get their attention.

Brett turns to face Stiles. “What do you mean where are your presents?” He asks in disbelief. “There is literally a painting of you as Batman hanging on the wall and you’re saying that is not enough!”

Stiles cracks a smile. “I’m just kidding. It looks great, man. Thanks.”

“Damn straight it looks great. Do you know how hard it is to blend the mask but still get the right amount of light reflecting?” Brett rants. He turns back to the food but Stiles can see the faintest tinges of pink on his cheeks and the back of his neck.

Penelope sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, her feet tapping away on the hardwood floor. Stiles has never understood why the hallway had carpet but he had to suffer the cold hardwood in his dorm room every morning.

Stiles and Brett dish food onto the paper plates Penelope brought and sit on their beds. Stiles hands a plate piled with Doritos and sugar cookies to Penelope and digs into his own food.

Stiles’ mind wanders off to this morning and those students’ discussion. Someone died last night. He’s not sure what time the attack occurred but it could have been him. He arrived home pretty late last night and who knows what could have happened if he decided to take the long way home instead.

He wonders if either one of his friends know anything about the attack. “While I was in the cafeteria I heard a of couple students talking about an animal attack. Have you two heard anything about it?”

Penelope’s eyes widen and she quickly swallows. “No but did they die?”

“Apparently. They said that the victim had slashes and teeth marks on their neck.”

Brett leans forward, his eyes alive with fascination. “Do you think they went here? I wonder how old they were.”

Penelope paws her phone out of her silver clutch and begins to tap away on the screen. Stiles supposes he can call his dad and ask him about the incident. When he was in high school he used to snoop around his father’s office out of curiosity. He can’t quite do that now since he doesn’t live ten minutes from the station anymore. He doesn’t know why this case is so important to him but he wants to know what happened. He has always been interested in the law and he knows his curiosity will be the death of him one day.

Penelope suddenly gasps and sits up straighter. Both boys look at her and she pales as her eyes skim the screen.

“What? What is it?” Stiles inquires. He scoots closer to her to try to read over her shoulder and his stomach drops, regret instantly filling him.

“Oh my God.” Penelope whispers. She sets her phone down on the bed and runs to the bathroom. Stiles can hear her sobs but he can’t move. He wants to comfort her but he still can’t believe what he read.

Brett is growing impatient. He was curious what they both found at first but their reactions are scaring him. He leans across the small distance in between Stiles and his’ beds and shakes Stiles’ shoulder.

“Dude, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Stiles looks up from his lap and stares at Brett in disbelief. His eyebrows are drawn together in worry. “The victim who died is Adam Novio. Penelope’s brother.”


	2. A Warning From a Withered Old Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a bit unexpected but oh well lol. Although Peter is not in this chapter, he will be in the next. If you're in the USA I hope you had a great Thanksgiving! Thanks for reading! :)

                Over the next week Stiles and Brett try to comfort Penelope the best they can but she makes it clear she wants to be left alone to grieve. She goes home for the weekend and Stiles does his best to focus on his school work. When his mom died he didn’t talk to anyone for months. His dad got so worried he sent him to a specialist to figure out why Stiles suddenly went mute. Scott, bless his heart, would threaten to punch anyone who made fun of Stiles but was always too scared to go through with it. A mute and an asthmatic; what a pair they made. He hopes Penelope finds a better way to cope than he did.

                Stiles picks up his phone off of his desk and checks to see if Penelope has responded to him. She hasn’t. He sighs and packs his homework into his backpack. It’s almost midnight and Brett is fast asleep, snoring loudly. Stiles climbs into bed and plugs his phone in. He leans over the edge of his bed and grabs his headphones that are lying on the floor and untangles them. He turns on soft playing music to drown out Brett and closes his eyes.

                _Stiles stumbles over a rock and twigs crunch under his heavy footsteps as he trudges through the forest. Moonlight shines through the treetops, barely providing enough light to see. Thunder rumbles in the distance and Stiles shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to try to create some warmth. He comes upon a clearing that is sprinkled with flowers and weeds that reach Stiles’ mid-calf. Once again thunder claps, only this time closer. Stiles jumps when a bolt of lightning strikes across the field, leaving a patch of dead grass in its wake. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and the smell of white hot electricity fills the air. The atmosphere feels crisper somehow and Stiles knows this is when he would be yelling at the TV, screaming at the characters to book it and run. Stiles is about to do just that when he hears a low growling to his left. Stiles’ hair stands up on the back of his neck and he slowly turns to face the source of the noise. On the edge of the clearing stands a slim but tall black wolf. There are grey circles around its eyes and its aura is radiating power. Stiles instantly remembers an article he read on Wikipedia about how animals smell fear and you shouldn’t run because it entices wolves, calling its instinct of chasing its prey to the surface. Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to calm his racing heartbeat. He slowly backs away but stops almost immediately when the wolf curls its lips. It produces a deep growl that makes Stiles’ blood run cold and all logical thought jump out the window._

_Another bolt of lightning strikes again but this time it is close enough to Stiles that he swears he can feel sparks land on his bare arms. The blinding light from the lightning strike creates white stars in the dark night. He blinks rapidly, trying desperately to clear his vision. He feels lightheaded but the taste of electricity in the air fills him with a form of strength he’s never felt before. His fingertips tingle and twitch, itching for more power._

_Stiles brings his attention back to the wolf who begins prowling towards him. Instead of feeling scared Stiles is comforted when thunder echoes throughout the woods. This new found bond with thunder confuses him but he doesn’t get the chance to ponder on it when the wolf suddenly pounces, taking off into a run straight for Stiles. Electricity crackles between his fingertips and it feels as though he is on a high, addicted to the power that surges beneath his veins. Stiles doesn’t even think, acting on instinct, and thrusts his arms out towards the wolf, pushing everything he has in him in that single throw. He clenches his eyes shut, hoping that did something. Stiles cracks his eyes open, all the fear that was submerged suddenly floods right back over him._

_Stiles isn’t really sure what happened or what he did but he can put two and two together. He somehow called upon the lightning and hurt the wolf, even if it was in the slightest. The wolf drags itself back onto all fours and shakes off whatever Stiles did to it like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing because Stiles can see the slight tremor in its legs when it stalks towards him again. Fear seeps into him once again when he realizes he can’t feel the twinges of electricity anymore. Stiles’ eyes widen and fight or flight instincts kick in. He already tried fighting and that obviously didn’t do much damage so Stiles turns and runs. He has never been good at running. When coach orders them to run during lacrosse practice, Stiles is always last but the adrenaline he feels right now surges him forward and he runs like his life depends on it because well, it does. His feet slap against the dirt floor in heavy steps and his lungs begin to burn but he pushes on. He can hear the wolf behind him and knows it is right on his tail. He doesn’t know a lot about wolves but he knows they can run three times as fast as a human so he thanks God he is still in the lead until he realizes something. The wolf is letting him be in the lead, it likes it. It likes the chase. Dread fills Stiles, knowing he is going to die anyway. Just as he takes another step he can feel a paw at the back of his heel and he is going down, down, down. His back hits the forest floor with a thump, the wind getting knocked out of him in the process. He swivels onto his stomach and claws the grass, trying to pull himself out of the wolf’s grasp. He knows it’s useless but he struggles anyway. A claw tears through his pant leg and digs into his skin, dragging down, drawing a strangled scream from his throat. Pain hot as fire courses through him, burning brighter as another clawed paw slashes his backside. He squints at the sky through blurry vision and the last thing he remembers is an owl swooping through the trees._

Stiles gasps awake, reaching for his right leg. He lifts his pajama pant leg up and searches his calf. He sighs in relief when he can’t find any cuts and falls back onto his sheets. His throat feels raw and he delicately touches his throat. He turns on his side, facing his wall, and furrows his eyebrows. Was he screaming in his sleep again? He jumps when a hand touches his back and his shoulders tense. He immediately pushes himself up so he’s leaning against his headboard. Brett is leaning over him, worry sketched across his brow. Stiles relaxes and breathes out a shuddering breath.

                “Are you okay? You were screaming and thrashing in your sleep.” Brett whispers. Stiles nods and gets up, walking over to the mini fridge they keep in their room. He grabs a water bottle and unscrews the cap with shaking fingers. He gulps down the water, sighing in relief as it cools his throat. He sets it back inside and climbs back under his Stars Wars sheets Melissa got him.

                “Just a bad dream. Sorry for waking you.”

                “Nah, man. It’s totally fine.” Brett waves him off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

                Stiles shakes his head. He doesn’t fully understand what happened in the dream himself, and he definitely does not want to share the weird situations his mind comes up with. Brett sits back onto the edge of his own bed and plays with his fingers. It’s a nervous mannerism he picked up from Stiles after living with him.

                “You know,” Brett starts. “I used to have nightmares when I was younger. They started after my older brother enrolled into the army. They only stopped when he came back.”

                Stiles stares at Brett surprised. Brett has mentioned his brother before; the way he talks about him makes him sound like a saint. He never would have guessed Brett suffered from nightmares but he supposes it’s not something you know just from looking at someone. What he means though is that Brett carries himself so confidently, like nothing can break him. But everyone does have their demons, Stiles just doesn’t understand why his decided to torment him with dying by the hand of a wolf.

                Stiles coughs, debating whether he should say this or not. “I used to have dreams about my mom every night after she died. Some of them were nice. Memories of sunny picnics, finding seashells on the beach. Some were…not so nice. At first I would dream of her time in the hospital, that being good or bad but I guess after a while my mind got bored with the same old dreams and would change the memories to something nastier and meaner. When I was younger the dreams would sometimes distort my memory of her but then I would dream of the happy memories and be reminded that she was good and we were all happy at one point of time.” Stiles trails off, his heart clenching in his chest. Talking about his mom still hurt, even after all this time but it’s nice to talk about her. She was an amazing woman and she deserves to be remembered.

                “I had a similar experience. I kept dreaming of Ashton in action and of course my imagination made up worse scenarios than what was actually happening.” Brett climbs under his covers and stares at the ceiling. “Anyway, you’re sure you’re okay?”

                Stiles smiles at his concern. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He turns onto his side and soon enough he was falling back to sleep.

 

*

                While walking to class the next morning, Stiles spots Penelope across the courtyard. Instead of wearing her usual bright colors and accessories, she’s dressed in an oversized gray sweatshirt and jeans with her hair pulled up into a messy bun.

                Stiles jogs the distance to catch up with her. “Hey! I didn’t know you were back.”  

                Penelope raises her head so she can meet his eyes. There are dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and her cheeks are blotchy. Stiles can only guess she was crying a short time ago.  

                “I got back yesterday. Just thought I should probably go to class.” She shrugs.

                Stiles stares at her, not sure what else to say. He’s never been that good with comforting people. He remembers after his mom died he constantly felt alone, even if he was in a crowded room. Nothing could fill that empty hole in his heart that his mom left. Stiles knows losing a mom and a brother are not the same but either way, they both lost someone they loved. He remembers just wanting someone to be there for him and mean it.

                “Yeah, of course. Just know that I’m here for you, Penny. That being a shoulder to cry on or someone to distract you.” 

                Penelope smiles softly and mutters, “Thank you.”

                Stiles plants a kiss to her cheek and heads off to his class with a wave in her direction. His phone buzzes in his pocket when he arrives at class. He pulls it out and sees it’s from his dad.

**From: Daddio**

_Just checking in. Are you okay?_

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. Although it’s sweet of his dad to check up on him, it’s odd. He never texts Stiles out of the blue like this. He must be still worried about his nightmare.

**To: Daddio**

_I’m fine. Love you._

               Stiles doesn’t bother to mention the other dream to his dad, he doesn’t want to worry him more. He’s already stressing himself out with cases, the last thing he needs is knowing Stiles’ nightmares are coming back.

               After class, Stiles decides to try to find a store that sells incense. He remembers that his dad used to light some before Stiles would go to bed because for some reason the smell of lavender helped his nightmares go away. At least it worked when he was young; he can only hope nothing has changed. Stiles searches stores near him that sell incense and comes across a store that is only seven minutes away. He shrugs and plugs the address into Google maps and starts driving.

               Stiles pulls up to a purple, small store. He must have driven this road many times in the past but he has never seen this building before. Hanging in front of the store is a wooden sign with the name _Celestial Awakenings_ engraved into it. The shabby store has gnomes sitting in the windows and wind chimes blowing outside the door. Stiles parks Roscoe and jumps out. He pats his pockets to make sure he has his wallet before walking up the three steps leading into the shop.

               As soon as Stiles steps foot into the store, he feels off. There is something unsettling in the atmosphere that makes Stiles’ skin crawl. There is an older dark skinned woman working the till. Her graying hair is pulled back into a long braid and she smiles to the customer she is helping. As the customer leaves, the old woman’s eyes land on Stiles. Her smile instantly disappears and her eyes harden, sending chills down Stiles’ spine. He quickly walks to the back and scans the shelves, trying to ignore the hot burn of her stare on his back. He doesn’t understand what he did to cause such a reaction from her, he has never met her before and he hasn’t even said one word to her.

              Stiles spots the incense and grabs a handful of the lavender scent. He makes his way to the counter, his eyes downcast. He would rather not make eye contact and just get out of here as fast as he can.

             The woman scans his items slowly then clears her throat. “That will be $7.75.” She grumbles out in a scratchy voice. It sounds like she’s been smoking a pack of cigarettes everyday of her life.

             Stiles fumbles for his wallet and has to pay the last dollar in coins. The woman stuffs the sticks of incense into a small bag and holds it out to him.

            “Thanks.” Stiles whispers and reaches for the bag. Just as his fingers grasp the white plastic, the woman’s hand darts out and clutches his wrist. Stiles looks up at the woman in confusion and tries to yank back his wrist but the woman’s grip tightens.

            “What the hell, lady?” Stiles asks. “Let go of me.”

            “Oh, child. Dear, dear, child. Your story is just about to begin.” The woman whispers. She looks almost regretful which confuses Stiles even more.

            “What does that even mean? You know what? I don’t care. Just let me go!” Stiles tugs his wrist once more but the lady still has a tight hold. Stiles looks around to see if anyone can help get this crazy lady off of him but finds himself to be the only customer.

            “The moment you walked into my store I could feel something.” Stiles shifts his eyes from the lady to the counter. “You could feel it too, couldn’t you?” The lady asks, leaning over the counter. “It was cold and, and… electrifying.”

             Stiles’ head snaps up at that. She is describing the same way he felt in his dream. Stiles is curious now. What does this woman mean? How did she sense that about him?

            “I have heard about your kind, boy. Though I bet you haven’t locked into your true potential yet, have you?” The woman continued.

            “My kind?” Stiles asks puzzled. This lady isn’t making any sense.

            “Hush now, darling. You best be on your way.” She released Stiles’ wrist. “I would watch yourself, sweetheart. You never know what creatures are out there, looming in the dark, waiting for the right moment to pounce.”

            “Right…” Stiles trails off warily as he grabs his bag. He rubs his wrist and pushes the front door open with his shoulder. He walks briskly to his jeep and starts it up, happy to be out of that store. All the way back to campus Stiles can’t stop thinking about his encounter with that lady. What did she mean ‘his kind’? Was she referring to his generation or something else entirely?

            He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts he almost forgets the bag of incense on the Jeep’s passenger seat. He scoops up the bag and pats the ripped up leather seat affectionately. He really needs to look into how much new seats would cost him. As Stiles makes his way to his dorm, his cell phone begins to blare _Oops! ... I Did it Again_ by Britney Spears. Stiles digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Lydia’s name and face appear on the screen. The photo is of her and Stiles with his arm wrapped around her shoulder. It was taken on his seventeenth birthday at a bowling alley. He distinctly remembers Lydia smoking Scott at that game.

           Stiles swipes to answer and brings the phone up to his ear. “Hey Lyds.”

           “Stiles are you okay?” Lydia asks urgently.

           “What?” Stiles furrows his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fine.”

           Lydia lets out a relieved sigh. “I heard that a boy was killed back at home and I was concerned.”

           Stiles sadly smiles, a twinge of pain twisting at his heart when he thinks about Penelope’s brother, Adam. “Everything is fine. The boy who died was my friend Penelope’s brother.”

           “Well that’s just too bad. Send her my condolences.”

            “Will do. So what’s up with you Lydia? No one has really heard from you in a while.” Stiles asks as he unlocks his dorm room. Inside Brett is folding and putting away his clothes. He looks up from the pile of shirts he’s folding and hands Stiles two pairs of clean, folded socks. Stiles nods in thanks and goes to put them away after setting the bag of incense on his bed.

            “I know, I’m sorry.” Lydia says. “MIT has been a lot and then I also joined the Society of Women Engineers. It’s so great, Stiles. All these women come together to work on STEM projects and we go out and try to better the community. SWE is just so empowering, you have this group of strong, smart women who support you when you need it. I love it here Stiles.”

            “That sounds awesome, Lyds.” Stiles sits beside the plastic bag on his bed and starts to unwrap the incense from their plastic packaging.

             “How’s life back at home?” Lydia asks.

             “It’s…” Stiles trails off. He isn’t sure what to say. He’s sure she’s interested in an update about their friends but there isn’t much to tell. The only one he frequently talks to is Scott and the biggest change Scott has gone through since freshman year of high school is getting a girlfriend. The most interesting thing that has happened recently is Adam’s strange death and Stiles’ stranger dreams.

                “It’s what Stiles?”

                “It’s good.” There is a long pause and Stiles just knows she must have her hands on her hips, waiting for him to continue. “I don’t know. I’ve been having these weird dreams.” Brett cranks his neck so he can look at Stiles from where he’s facing his dresser. He raises an eyebrow but then turns back to his clothes. Stiles knows he’s still listening.

                “You know what they say about dreams,” Lydia says. “Dreaming is supposedly our subconscious trying to communicate with our conscious selves.”

                “Then what is my subconscious trying to tell me? That my mother hated me in her last moments and I should stay away from wolves? I already knew that.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

                Lydia huffs on the other end of the line. “I don’t know, Stiles. Oh! I have to go; it seems I’m going to be late for the SWE meeting. Don’t hesitate to call or text me. Bye!”

                “Bye.” Stiles mumbles then the line goes dead.

                “So…” Brett starts. “What’s in the bag?”

*

                That night Stiles grabs one of Brett’s glass jars he uses to stash his paint brushes and sticks the lavender incense inside. He lights the ends and crawls into bed, letting the smell of lavender lull him to sleep.

                _Stiles finds himself in the same clearing as his last dream but this time everything is slightly warped. The trees in the distance are fuzzy and the air seems as if he is looking through a distorted piece of glass. Stiles spins, trying to see if that same wolf is here again. Off in the distance to his right, Stiles spots two red headlights. He heaves a sigh of relief and waves his arms above his head, trying to get the driver’s attention. The lights come closer and closer until Stiles is unsure if those are headlights at all. Suddenly, all at once, all Stiles can smell is the stench of rotting flesh. He doubles over, resting his hands on his knees, and gags. The awful stench burns his nostrils and the smell is so strong he swears he can taste it. Stiles lifts his head and jumps back, stumbling over his own feet. The two lights have now turned into two red beady eyes, but he can’t tell what they belong to due to his distorted vision. Stiles’ head feels dizzy and his eyes begin to roll into the back of his head until his vision is clouded by darkness._

_The next thing he sees is a body lying in the field. Stiles tries to run to them but he can’t move. A sense of dread fills his gut and he is overcome with the need to vomit. The smell of rotting flesh is stronger now and Stiles does in fact puke when he notices a pool of blood surrounding the person. He’s too far away to identify who the victim is but he has a gut feeling they’re connected to whatever killed Adam. Stiles spins around so he is no longer facing the person. Stiles gasps when things suddenly become clear and he notices a tree stump a few feet away from him. Stiles turns back around to see if he can clearly see the victim but the world is warped again. When Stiles turns to face the tree it’s clear as day. He feels a hot pull in his stomach, begging him to walk towards the stump. To his surprise, when Stiles tries to take a step forward he can. As he gets closer to the tree, the hot fire spreads from his gut to his veins, spreading throughout his entire body. The stump is very large when he reaches it. It has to be the largest tree stump he’s ever seen. He can’t imagine how old it was when it got cut down, the rings on the stump seem to never end. The tree seems to call to Stiles, begging him to stroke the splintered wood. Stiles raises his hand to touch it, slowly with trembling fingers. A strand of grass breaks from a crack in the stump and reaches out for Stiles, stretching to touch him. The wind begins to pick up and Stiles’ fingers barely brush the surface when-_

              Stiles wakes with a start. He opens his eyes only to be met with clear blue morning sky. Stiles rubs his eyes in case he is still dreaming but no, he’s outside in the middle of the Preserve of all places. How the hell did he end up here? Wet leaves crinkle under him as he stands. The air smells lightly of smoke and a few birds tweet in the distance. Stiles is wearing the same plaid pajama pants he put on last night and a long sleeve white Henley. He’s so glad he decided to wear a shirt to bed last night. He must have slept walked here. Mud seeps between his bare toes as he searches for the path. How did he not get frostbite? It’s mid-November and the nights have been getting colder. Stiles scans the Preserve and almost chokes on his own spit when he spots a tree stump on the edge of a clearing. He swears it’s the same stump from his dream. Stiles strides over to it and yep, that is definitely the same tree stump. The same endless rings, crack down the middle, and he could not mistake the meadow that lies beyond the tree even if he was going blind.

              Weirdly enough, the same deep pull he felt in his dream arises again. This time much closer, Stiles reaches out to touch the tree stump. As his fingertips brush the wood, whispers of his name seem to seep from the crack and call out to him. The same strand of grass grows from the crack and this time intertwines itself between his fingers. Stiles gasps and yanks his hand back but as soon as he is out of the tree’s grasp he feels cold and empty. Stiles curiously steps forward again and places his palms against the stump. Suddenly a rush of _power bond fire need protect finally_ washes over Stiles. He gasps and his knees buckle, sending him to the forest floor. Stiles leans against the tree stump and his eyes glaze over as a feeling of electricity flows through his veins, lighting up every cell in his body. Stiles closes his eyes, back arching from the overwhelming euphoria. Something deep inside him sparks then ignites and Stiles’ eyes snap open.

              Suddenly everything goes black and Stiles’ body slumps onto the green grass limply.


End file.
